


Licorice and Mint - Book 1 - Part 6 - Enough Already, Let Me In

by elle_and_em



Series: Licorice and Mint [6]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Coming of Age, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons References, F/F, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Original Character(s), Other, Punk Rock, Slow Burn, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_and_em/pseuds/elle_and_em
Summary: Nat and Vola's friendship has strengthened their resolves to change for the better.  While Vola walks a tightrope of sobriety, hiding her choice from the other hunters, Nat struggles with her silent war, as the rebel within wants out.  One night, as Vola seeks respite from the horrors of the underworld, she finds her best friend trapped by the horrors of her culture.CW: This section contains drug use, references to incest, and domestic abuse.This work features lyrics from The Silversun Pickups, Pigface, and Bikini Kill.  All rights belong to the respective recording artists
Series: Licorice and Mint [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962421





	1. Pretty, Quiet, and Clean.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Vola begins the path to sobriety she finds her life with the hunters harder to accept. Ahroun has her busy deciphering the Dodecahedron, while the others continue to regard her as the same old-surly Vola. Her only outlet and support is her friendship with Nat, but what is the Aasimar getting out of their friendship?

========================================================================  
  
_We got this._

Nat had initially wanted to meet and break down her proposed plan, but Ahroun’s watchful eye had meant it was impossible to get away. The dragonborn instead had tasked Victor and Cerise to do drug runs and other errands. Ahroun had placed such importance on figuring out the relic that she was barely allowed to leave the kitchen. She couldn't even use the outhouse without feeling his gaze burn into the closed door as she took a piss. 

When she did go out it was for hunts, though they were not as dangerous or dramatic as the Yuan-Ti dive. The risk to life was the usual, but now they were filled in on the details of the missions beforehand. If the hunt was for a very dangerous target or required another trip into the sewers, Vola was sidelined. Doran assured her it was because of the work she was doing on the relic but she knew the human's tone of voice turned sweet and friendly when he was placating a client, and she was getting a toothache from the sugary bullshit he was feeding her. 

Vola played along with the trust the rest of the team was showing the dragonborn and quit questioning when he kept her off the front line of combat, or relegated her to a driver role. It was a mixed blessing considering her current goals, but one that meant she and the Aasimar had to break down the plan via furtive text messages. 

The first step of the plan was already in progress. Vola was only to use the sleep meds and painkillers for rest or to manage injuries that Nat couldn’t help heal. Anything she took for “fun”, was out of the question. Thankfully Nat’s magic had purged most of the toxins from Vola’s body, so the psychological withdrawal was the only real worry they had to watch for. She was warned against masking her urges with another addiction.

Looking around the rotted husk of a house they called home, she knew that nothing here, not even the Dodecahedron was going to hook her, not anymore. The joys she’d mindlessly partaken in with the rest of the family seemed hollow to her now. Watching Cerise stagger around disoriented and puking might make the rest of them laugh, but Vola found herself studying the younger woman with nothing but pity and a shade of revulsion.

But what about Dahl? The texts from the halfling usually sparked happy twitches, dancing from her brain down to her clit. The promise of a relaxing party night away from here with no strings attached was tempting, but if she was going to get clean, she had to actually try to avoid at least the drugs part of that equation. The clarity and distance gave her perspective on her connection to the dealer. While she didn’t really feel anything for him, it was clear he was having greater feelings for her. She’d always managed to rebuff him in the past and didn’t have any qualms about doing so now, but a part of her also felt guilty about simply ghosting. She took to politely dodging questions and making excuses about “work”. After a week or so he seemed to get the hint.

As she distanced herself from Dahl, Vola became more chatty with the Aasimar. She would text her friend and ask her to talk about anything other than the puzzle or getting clean. The plot to _The Bodyguard,_ or the best care practices for the enchanted wristband. Nat’s replies would be friendly and polite but short. She feared she was beginning to annoy her new friend and found herself re-reading the text thread, analyzing the words and replies. In vain, she tried to reassure herself that Nat did care and wasn't giving up on her because she couldn't escape to the clinic and hang out. 

One night, just as she was about to risk running out, she got a text that erased her anxiety in minutes. _Heya. My girlfriend sucks, there’s no shows, and I work in 4 hours. Please say your night is going better than mine._

Vola smiled as she laid on the soggy pallet she called a bed. She’d wrapped it in a tarp and put the blankets over it, but from experience she knew that nothing would stave off the damp cold for long. She settled back into the crackle of plastic sheeting and sent off a quick reply. _What did she do this time?_

She smiled as the Aasimar filled the screen with a blistering tirade about her partner. The thread went on for several minutes before Nat abruptly switched the subject. _You wanna get dinner again soon? Maybe listen to some music?_

Vola replied _Soon. Promise._ Anxious disappointment began to erase the feeling of euphoria. She wanted a chance to get out of this rotting shell of a house and back to places that felt healthy and clean. But when? Ahroun’s presence was oppressive and ever watching.

Surprisingly, it was another hunt that finally gave Vola the slip she needed. They’d been given a contract to deal with a Roper that had emerged from the sewers too close to the surface and scared off - or ate, the contract had been vague - a team of maintenance workers. 

The tall lumpy pillar shaped creature had battered the hunters with its long tentacles, snapping its wide tooth-filled maw at Ahroun. With ease, it had flung Gaius and Cerise clear across into the shallows of the river. Vola had managed to deliver the killing blow, driving Invicta’s tines deep into its waxy hide, letting the Stun Gun roar with its full power. The monster had died with a monumental shriek, the soundwave sending Vola crashing into the wall of the riverwalk. 

With the battle over, the numbing dread of returning to the farm had loomed overhead. Suddenly desperate, her brain had latched onto an idea. While the rest of the team piled into their rusted van, she "discovered" that the fight broke her stun gun. Quickly she’d formed an excuse that she needed a specific epoxy to seal the damage without affecting the enchantment. If she waited to fix it, she’d said while walking backwards away from the scene, Invicta would fry the next person who tried to use it.  
  
Ignoring Ahroun’s roar to “get her ass back in the car”, she’d quickly turned tail and darted down an alley. With the ease of long practice, she’d dodged the growl of the truck by darting into alleys and streets too narrow for the big vehicle to follow. Once she was sure they’d given up, she’d snagged the first bus into the Silks, hopeful for greasy food and warm conversation as prizes for surviving tonight...

After she got her bruised ribs healed up first.

========================================================================

The clinic was packed when Vola arrived. Every chair was filled and a nervous line milled around the front desk, which was empty. The half-orc scanned the room with a frown. Where was Nat? Where were the other staff members?

“Excuse me, do you work here?” A shrill voice caused Vola to refocus her attention on the slim Vedalken man tapping her on the shoulder with a steel-blue finger. The man’s wide face was creased in irritation and he studied her through owlish round lenses. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour and _no one_ has come to the front. My tooth is killing me. If I’d known we’d be abandoned like this I would have just gone to Darpana General! At least there they don’t pretend to--”

“I’ll see what I can do, sir. Two minutes.” With twenty pairs of eyes following her, Vola swung the back door open and poked her head in. Every exam room was closed. Feeling the gazes of the patients on her back, she slid inside the hall. “Nat?”

A flash of lavender and white poked out of the furthest exam room door. “Vola! Is that you? Thank the _gods_.” The Aasimar emerged into the hall, crossing it in several quick strides. Without preamble, she wrapped the half-orc in a fierce hug.

Vola grunted, her ribs blossoming into pain. “Ow. Sorry. Ribs.” 

“Oh no! You’re hurt! Here, let me--”

“S’fine, maybe later,” she waved off. 

The pain was a welcome distraction. Her hands felt big and awkward, her face warm. When was the last time anyone had touched her? Not even Dahl managed to slip past her bubble, outside of sex. As usual, her friend had managed to leap over Vola’s carefully constructed walls with ease. She cleared her throat. “You’ve got a packed room back there. What’s going on?”

“Packed? What?” Nat’s brow furrowed in confusion, until she put the pieces together. The confusion deepened into annoyance as she checked her phone. “Oh for the love of Nakshatra. Five-oh-five. Savi must have just left. And with all those patients waiting still, she just---” The smaller woman breathed in deeply through her nose, then exhaled. “How many are out there?”

“Twenty maybe?”

“Four hells,” she muttered helplessly. “And I’m bouncing between exam rooms as it is…”

The words came out, unbidden. “I’ll help. I’ll run the desk, you focus on doing what you do best.”

“What? No. I couldn’t. You’re not certified and...do you even know how to run a front desk?”

“Is it harder than escaping from a sewer?” Vola cracked a smile at Nat to hide her own nervousness. The Aasimar’s eyes shone with relief and hope.

“Well, let me at least take care of you first. What happened?”

“Bruised ribs from a hunt.”

“Shit. You should be a patient right now!”

“Really Nat, it’s okay, I can wait.”

“Well I can at least do this for you.” The healer put her hand on Vola’s shoulder. Closing her eyes, she muttered a fragment of High Celestial. Instantly, an icy thickness seemed to descend on her ribcage, coalescing around the bruises like a cold pack. The pain was still there, but it was dulled.

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Should hold you over till I--”

“Ma’am!” The shrill voice howled from the waiting room again. “Are you still back there? It’s been more than two minutes!”

Vola laid a hand on Nat’s shoulder, forcing calm into her voice. “We got this.” 

As it turned out, escaping a Yuan-Ti nest was a breeze compared to unlocking the secrets of the ancient computer before her. Nat didn’t know the password, and after a few unsuccessful tries she got an error message: _Your account has been locked. Please contact your system administrator._ In frustration, she banged the desk with her fist, causing the crowd to stare. Blushing furiously, she threw on a flu mask to hide her face and fished out a pen and paper. “Please sign in on the sheet. I’ll do my best to make sure you get seen quickly,” she instructed the group. The irate Vedalken was first in line, signing so quickly it was a wonder the paper didn’t catch on fire. 

From a drawer, Vola was relieved to discover a clipboard and a paper copy of the intake form thick with dust. On it, someone had slapped a sticky note saying DO NOT USE, with an arrow on it. Vola hesitated at first, until she noticed the reason for the note. At the top of the form, the arrow pointed to the question “ _Are you able to pay for care today? Please circle one: Yes, No, Partial Payment”._ A thick line had been drawn through _~~No.~~ _

Well, the Church of Nakshatra could just deal with it, Vola decided as she tore the question off the form. Meeting the owlish eyes, she held up the intake form. “I’m going to make some copies of this, since we’re running low. Back in a minute.” He huffed in reply, but there was no venom to it. Just the fact of her presence meant things were moving again, which seemed enough to reassure him. 

Ten minutes later, Vola was back with a sheaf of copies. Two minutes after that, she ushered the very relieved Vedalken into Exam Room 1, and handed the clipboard to a halfling woman who bounced a squirming infant on her hip. “Next!”

After that, she settled into a pace. There were still some rocky moments, like when patients refused to provide any info besides their gang affiliation, or when she had to muscle one drunk patient out the door. The eyes of the patients met hers in appreciation as she settled back behind the desk. Part time receptionist, part time bouncer, full time hunter, she smiled quietly to herself as she waved the next person to the back. 

The mood in the room had slowly changed from angry suspicion to relieved calm. One fragment of conversation floated back to her ears as Vola directed an aging Tabaxi woman and her daughter to the exam room. “Don’t worry Mom, the Angel won’t forget us. She even brought in that orc woman. Silk like us, not glass.” Vola glowed at the compliment, even as it gnawed at her. What would Nat do the next night her Aasimar staff bailed right at five? Vola couldn’t always be here. What would Nat do when her year was up and she went back to the fold? Would the Silks residents still call her “Angel” then?

The waiting room began to slowly but steadily empty, until no more than a trickle remained. By the time the last patient left, the stack of intake forms was a good five centimeters thick and Vola’s throat hurt from talking so much. As the final one waved good night to her, it was with a sigh of relief that she locked the doors behind them. Sagging against the metal, she glanced up at the clock above the desk. 11pm. How long would Nat have been here alone, had she not shown up?

“That's the last of them?” Nat’s tired voice echoed as she emerged. 

“Yep, all done.

“Thank the gods!” Nat collapsed into an empty folding chair. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, Vola.” Her friend’s bun had frayed, making a frazzled wreath of white around her hairline. Nat’s apron was stained, and her gloves were brown and sticky. She flung them into the trash and sighed deeply. “I could eat a horse.”

“I dunno if they serve horse at the diner, but I’m sure we could ask,” Vola teased. My treat?” 

Nat gave a tired smile. “Honestly? I’m exhausted and I actually cooked. I got a stew waiting at home."  
  
Vola felt an unusual wave of disappointment well up inside of her. It felt childish, but realistically she knew that the Aasimar was already sharing a lot of her free time with her. It was only natural that some nights Nat needed to be alone. Pulling on her canvas jacket, she tried to hide any emotion in her voice. “Well then...should I wait till you call a car?”  
  
Nat sighed. “Yeah. Please. Or, if you’re not okay with a car we can take a bus.”  
  
  
Vola turned and raised an eyebrow. “What?”  
  
  
“I mean...I don’t wanna assume, but MazeCar would be faster. I doubt you wanna wait any more than I do.”

  
“For…?”

  
“Dinner. At my place.”  
  
  
“At y-your…?”  
  
  
And just like that, Vola found herself sitting in the back of a cab, speeding through the streets towards Concordia Heights. The trash-littered streets of the Lower Silks had melted into the three-story townhomes and trendy urban gardens of the Upper Silks before leaving them behind. After that the Maze Care had detoured around construction through Druid Hills, with its wide lawns and soaring maple trees. Now the skyline of New Darpana Bay glittered against the night sky, twinkles of light set against a deep velvet backdrop. The driver merged into the exit for Concordia Heights, and Vola automatically craned her neck to admire the elven construction of the steel skyscrapers. Fluted pillars of white steel curved gracefully towards the heavens. When the light hit them just right at midsummer, they looked like arms reaching up to give praise to the sun. 

That was where the driver was taking them now, pulling off to the curb at the largest of the buildings. _Sol Circle Apartments,_ the sign read in graceful looping cursive. In front, a set of crystal double doors gave her a peek of a warmly lit lobby dotted with fake plants. 

“You ok?” It was the first words Nat had spoken to her since they’d gotten into the car. She didn’t miss the uncertainty in her tone, or the question in the Aasimar’s eyes. She watched the young doctor’s face break into a relieved grin at the curve of Vola’s smile.

“Sorry, I was just speechless at the idea of you actually cooking. I mean, magic’s one thing but a miracle?”

  
A lavender fist punched her shoulder playfully. “Ass. Cooking is just like herbalism or alchemy. Learn the ingredients, measure them out, add heat, and voila!”  
  
  
“Oh really? Voila!?”  
  


“You doubt me?”

  
“No, just trust me. There’s a big difference between food and your ‘Third Path’, but I’m open to being disproved, especially if it means a free meal.”  
  
  
The pair laughed as they exited the car. Nat tipped the driver and then walked up to the double doors and scanned her key fob. They unlocked for the Aasimar with a soft click. For a second Vola was struck again with a bout of self-conscious anxiety, but it was spanned by the lavender fingers pulling her inside. 

  
“Good Evening Doctor Shaviantar. Long day again?” A young leopard Tabaxi man stood behind the counter in a crisply pressed dark green bell-hop uniform. A small circular black hat was seated on top of his head, pressing his ears uncomfortably apart. His bright friendly smile toward Nat faltered for a moment as green feline eyes locked onto Vola. “Is this a guest of yours?” He asked with stiff professionalism. 

  
Here it was. She was _invited,_ but already being judged - by a bellhop no less. Instinct started to pull her feet to turn around. Thank Nat for the offer but make an excuse that she was suddenly tired and--

  
“I told you Theo, it’s Nat.” The Aasimar sighed as he passed her a bundle of envelopes from a shelf behind him. “After management goes home you don’t gotta put on the act. This is my friend Vola. She was helping me out tonight, and is here to hang for a bit. Vola? This is Theo, who knows better than to call me Doc unless it's at the clinic.”  
  
  
“Oh. You’re a patient?” Vola asked, unable to contain her surprise.  
  
  
Theo smiled sheepishly. “The wife was freaking out over the baby, and the clinic was the only place open. She's not due for another 3 months and looks ready to pop. She started feeling weak one night...”  
  
“First time mom worries. It's normal,” Nat interrupted. She turned to the Tabaxi and dug through her bag, retrieving a white plastic bottle. With the ease of a practiced thief, she angled her shoulder to block the security camera and nonchalantly slid the bottle behind the potted plant. As Theo cast a nervous glance towards Vola, Nat dismissed his silent question with a nod. “She’s cool. Made of silk. Not glass. Do you have a recycling bin where I could toss these?” She held out a handful of junk mail to the Tabaxi.  
  
  
“Of course,” Theo replied amiably. As he reached for the mail, his other hand disappeared behind the potted plant. “She um...said to tell you she's eating more meat.“

“Good. These will also help. Remember she's eating for--"

"Two. Right."   
  
  
The barest hesitation of a pause, but Vola caught it. "Yeah. Two…"

“Well, I will let you both get to your night then. Have a good evening Doc..er..um..Nat.”  
  
  
“Night Theo!” Nat drifted away from the desk towards the elevator doors. Vola followed her, sliding quickly into the plush black-and-silver box. Nat lazily punched the 5th floor button and sank against the railing.   
  
  
The half-orc shot her a smirk. "You hesitated when he said two." She grinned. "Does he know?”

"Mother / Doctor confidence," Nat said quietly.  
  
  
“So he doesn’t know he’s having twins...that’ll be a fun surprise.” Vola chucked. “Also - ‘made of silk not glass’? Where did you learn that?”  
  
  
“Something a witch taught me.”

  
“A witch? In the Silks?”  
  
  
“Who did your tattoos?” Nat replied with a warm smile.

Vola conceded the point. “Fair enough.”

When the elevator opened up, it was to a golden hallway with deep red carpets and a silence that hushed even the sounds of their footsteps. It was a far cry from the Farm. Even at Dahl’s, the walls were so thin she could hear every fight, every TV commercial, every phone call. Nervousness coiled in her stomach as they approached a towering white door with “504” polished to a brass sheen. What would she find inside? How did Nat live when no one else was looking?

The first thing to hit her nose was a savory meatiness that left her mouth watering. The second was the faint lemon of dish detergent. Cheerful yellow wall sconces flickered to life, revealing a wide hallway and an entry table, the wood stained a deep brown. Vola took a cautious step inside and gave the room a glance. 

The meaty smell was coming from a dutch oven, which bubbled comfortingly on the stove. The kitchen counters and island were granite, pearly gray with a pattern of smoke. The open concept kitchen melted into the living room area, where a black leather couch sat in front of a wall-mounted TV. A starched beige curtain was drawn across the patio door. The mantle above the spotless fireplace was empty, save for a large wrought iron lotus. Other than the holy symbol of Nakshatra, there was no indication that the Aasimar - or anyone - lived here. 

“Make yourself comfortable - I have to shower off first. I feel gross. There’s tea in the cabinet if you want any.” Before Vola could respond, Nat had disappeared behind the bedroom door. Shortly, the sound of rushing water hit Vola’s ears. With a sigh, she looked at the cabinet. 

“Tea. Okay. Can do.” Vola cracked open a cabinet. Inside lay a set of petite white ceramic bowls, all neatly stacked. Another cabinet. Two mugs, sitting side by side on an empty shelf. Nothing more. Out of an uneasy curiosity, she opened the fridge. Two takeout containers, a case of bottled water, and a jar of hot sauce. The freezer only sported a package of ice cream bars, still sealed. With a sinking feeling, Vola began to put the pieces together of her friend’s life outside of the clinic. 

The third time, she hit the jackpot. The yellow cardboard box of black tea was still sealed. She started water boiling and pulled out the two mugs, dropping a dry tea bag into each one. The teapot whistled just as the shower stopped. Nat emerged a few minutes later, just as Vola was spooning a tiny bit of honey into each cup. “I couldn’t find any sugar, and this looks like the last of your honey,” the half-orc said sheepishly, handing her a cup.

“I didn’t even know that was back there,” The Aasimar admitted, taking a sip. Nat had changed from her stained jeans and band t-shirt to oversized gray sweatpants and a blue Lotus hoodie. “Oh, this is amazing. Here, sit down and I’ll get you a bowl of stew.” Vola watched as her friend mechanically ladled stew into the two bowls, rinsed the ladle, carefully dried it, and placed it back in the drawer.

“Thanks.” Stirring the stew in front of her, Vola felt the first question dislodge from her tongue. “Did you just move in?”  
  


Nat gave her a confused look. “No. I’ve been here since April. Why?”

“It just looks clean. Real…clean.”  
  
  
“Clean, huh?” Nat joked.

Vola chewed on a bite of the stew, pondering how best to reply. It was good. The meat was cooked well, if a little overdone. The broth was thick and hearty. Salt, pepper, carrots, potatoes and green beans, and garlic had been added in, the result both comforting and delicious. But it needed something...something she couldn’t quite place. 

“It’s pretty. Quiet.” 

“Pretty and quiet and clean,” Nat repeated. Her tone was hard to decipher. Chewing and swallowing, her friend evaluated her own home again. “Huh.”

“‘Huh’ what?”

“You don’t like it.”

“That’s not it. It’s just…” she struggled for the right words. “It’s just...everything you’re not.”

“I’m not pretty?” Nat challenged.

“What! No! Er, yes, I mean, you’re gorgeous, but--” This was going all wrong. Her ears and neck were on fire.

The Aasimar’s eyes were crinkled with humor as she took another bite of stew. “S’ok,” she muttered around the mouthful. “I think I get what you mean.”

Vola focused intently on the pattern of the granite countertop, wishing it would swallow her. “...Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s been on my mind for a while, and if you’re seeing it too, then I know it’s a problem. The clinic has been open 3 months now and I’m still living out of this place like it’s a hotel. I don’t even feel like I live here.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Vola replied, glad to drive past the awkward moment. “Are there rules saying you can’t decorate?” She nodded at the iron-wrought lotus. “Religious stuff only kinda thing?”  
  


“Oh! That thing? That’s um...that wasn’t even my decision. They put that there as a ‘reminder of my loyalty and faith’. I’m not even technically supposed to pray to it. It's not sanctified.” Nat stared at it thoughtfully, taking another bite. “Sounds dumb, but honestly I feel more connected to Shatrava when I’m listening to music and just talking to my necklace, which I’m also not allowed to wear might I add. It's like...there’s all this prayer and ceremony at church. It's only when I’m taken away from all of it that I feel something _more_. Looking at that Lotus makes me feel...empty. And afraid to fail.” She flashed Vola a sad smile. 

Vola patted her hand. “But you don’t seem so scared when you’re at the clinic. You seem like you could take on the whole world.”

“Thanks.”  
  
  
“So why not here? Cause of Mara?”

The sudden tightness in her shoulders let the half-orc know she hit a nerve. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Why?”

“She, um...she wouldn’t understand.”

“But even if she doesn’t get it, she wouldn’t tell on you, right? I remember you mentioning her vows.”  
  
  
  
“Yep. Her and the clinic staff. They all took vows separating their lives in this world from the campus, which means that once they get in their cars and go home…”  
  
  
  
“What happens in Endib, stays in Endib?”

“Yup.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room once again as they ate, the oppressive quiet of the room seeming to smother conversation. She jumped slightly as Nat took the bowl out from in front of her. “Want some more?” she asked with a hopeful smile. “Sorry it's not the best cooked meal, but it was good right?”

A rumble of a day’s worth of working behind the clinic desk gave her an answer. “Of course. I think it just needs...something.”

“I have hot sauce.”

“Yeah", Vola admitted, “But something more. It’s good stew but it’s just like...stew.”

Nat wrinkled her nose in response. “I don’t follow.”

“Okay so at the diner, if you were to order the beef stew what would they have in it?”  
  


  
The Aasimar paused for a second. “They’d marinate the beef in a spicy brine beforehand, and they would blister the vegetables with truffle oil--actually that sounds really good.”

“Right!?” Vola perked up. “That sounds like a stew you would make right? Something that’s just...a bit unique to you.”

“And this is just….stew.” Nat mumbled. “I see where you’re going with this.”

“I’m not turning down a second bowl. It was good. Plus, you can’t beat home cooked dinner with a friend.”  
  


“Just doesn’t feel like we’re in my house though does it? Doesn’t feel like something….I’d...make.” 

Silently, Nat passed her a second bowl, moving to wash her own in the sink. Vola’s cheeks burned again, but this time for a different reason than embarrassment. She’d insulted her friend’s apartment, her cooking, and her need for secrecy. What kind of friend was she? 

“Nat, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that…”

Half-way through washing her bowl, Nat stopped and just left it sitting in her sink, suds popping along the white ceramic surface. She turned and refilled the electric kettle. Reaching into her purse, she withdrew three black bags that smelled very familiar. She mumbled as she flipped through them. “Gonna make some Twilight Comfort. You want a cup?” She said flatly.

“You have some!?” Vola exclaimed. “How?”

“I found the person who makes it for the diner. It's this place called Tuesday Evening Teas. Nice Firbolg Seer makes it. Uses her powers to mix teas that encapsulate moments in time. Kinda brilliant stuff.” Nat passed the bags over to her. “Twilight Comfort, Twilight Chess, and Twilight Breakfast. Anytime we want them. Even tells you what is in it.”

“Wow.” The half-orc marveled at the labels, and sniffed each of the bags deeply. If this woman could use oracular magic to make tea then what Vola wanted to do with Runic magic and enchantment wasn’t so dumb. As the rich smells of licorice root, tulsi, black peppercorn, and peppermint wafted through the air, the long forgotten daydream of teaching a class full of people returned. The disappointing glare of Ahroun was inevitably behind it, dampening its magic, but the steeping tea brought back some of its vibrancy. Nat sat a tall ceramic mug next to her and wandered around the living room blowing gently on her own mug.

“Trust me, Vola. I want so badly to feel like this was home. But Mara…”

The other Aasimar’s name buzzed through Vola’s ears, like a gnat. She respected their relationship but the amount of good stories about the other woman were dwindling. Mostly the bad filled their text chats now. 

“But I thought you already said she took vows.”

“And she won’t break them.”

“So if she wouldn’t break the vow then why hide it all?”

Nat moved to the couch and patted the other end, gesturing for Vola to come over. “Because the other week...I made a mistake. Mara’s such a fundamentalist at times that I’m surprised she ever came out of the closet, and that day she showed up out of the blue. And I knew...I just knew that if she saw what I had bought she’d react badly. So I hid it, hoping we’d avoid a fight.”

  
“And..?” Vola settled next to her.

  
“And we still ended up fighting over a stupid documentary. Same circular arguments that end with us both upset and frustrated with our circumstances. So she got up to leave and then...she found something.”

  
“Like what?”

Nat started to blush furiously, radiating a small amount of heat and looked towards the curtain. “Um...a thing...that she very much disagreed with.” The blush faded with the heat, and a look of despair replaced it. “Something she said some very mean things about.”

“Sorry. But she’s not here now though. She only comes over Sundays I thought?”

“I-I….um. Last time I thought I had hid everything well, and I was sloppy. I left something out and it was enough to make her go digging. It was a close call, but she still found it and it was...it was so bad Vola.”

“So you keep it all tucked away when you get home just in case. Clothes, music...anything that might not be ‘appropriate’.” Saying the words for her friend just made her feel worse about broaching the topic. “I get it, I think, but why does the rest of the place look like a furniture showroom?“

“She lectures me about cleanliness. The state of my apartment. It's like...it's like..in her mind, unless I’m at the clinic or spending time with her, I should be sitting here in the living room, staring at that lotus and doing nothing more. I should eat, clean myself, go to bed, and start over.”

“That sounds…” Vola recoiled at the monstatic routine.   
  


“Precisely. But Mara doesn’t handle change well. Especially when it comes to the secular world. So any attempt to even bring her into my experiences just results in um…yeah. I mean we couldn’t even watch a simple documentary about the Fragmenting of the Hastran Church without that being a dust up.”

Vola rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started on them. I bet that was a good watch though.”

“I mean yeah, if you like documentaries. It’s the only channel.” Nat jabbed at the TV.   
  


A child-like curiosity pulled her thoughts towards the television. Next to cheesy 80’s movies, documentaries were the only thing she really enjoyed watching. “Really?” Her eyes scanned the room for the remote control, but Nat’s face lined with misery brought her back with a guilty twinge. “Sorry. Maybe later.” Her friend didn’t respond, staring blankly at the dark screen. “Nat?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” 

A silent tear dripped onto the leather. Aghast, Vola reached across the couch and took her hand. “Nat, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed--”

“No, you’re right.” Nat’s voice cracked and she quickly downed a sip of tea to mask it. “I just don’t see another way.”

“You’re here till April and it's only July. That’s a long time. Are you gonna be okay with only being half of yourself when she’s around? And what about after? I know you’ve said going back is what you want, but what about the clinic? What about everything you’re learning? Can you hide it all for the rest of your life?”

Nat shook her head. Her eyes were glassy with more unshed tears, but her voice this time was stronger, steadier. “So what I’m hearing you say is I need to bring her in? I need to trust in her vows and just show her the real me? No more hiding?”

Vola snorted. “What did you tell me when I said I wanted to go cold turkey?”

For the first time that night, the Aasimar smiled. “Point taken. Introduce her slowly. I don’t wanna fix another vibrator again.”

“Huh?”

Nat waved her hand. “Maybe another time.” She got to her feet, disconnecting from Vola’s hand. She flashed her friend another smile. “Subject change. You ready to see this view I keep raving about?” Without waiting for an answer, she drew back the beige curtain, unveiling the night sky. 

“Whoa,” Vola breathed, rising to her feet. Nat hadn’t exaggerated about the beauty of New Darpana Bay from high up. Side by side, they admired the stunning chrome-and-gold of Concordia Heights. The Ten Towers, the heart of the city’s government, were a bright cluster of candles. The spire of Tower 1, head and shoulders above the rest, blazed a proud emerald green. Past those, the highway wound through Midtown and Druid Hills, matching the dark S-curve of the Darpana River. From up here, the Lower Silks was a random maze of streetlamps, like scattered jewels. Far beyond the reach of the light lay the dark shadow of the Knife’s Edge, the mountain range separating the city from the rest of Sehore. 

“Shatrava would want me to enjoy this thread of life she’s given me.” Nat’s voice was quiet and introspective. “Live to the fullest. I can’t do that if I’m too scared to share it right?”

“Sounds like solid logic.” 

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll do that. I just need...time to figure out how.”

“Like you told me. It won’t happen in a day. I’d say sleep on it. You’ll figure it out.”

In the dim light, the smile Nat gave her was soft. “You’re a good friend.” The half-orc’s cheeks grew warm. To mask it, she took another sip of tea. 

“So. I know you said you’re not a fan of documentaries, but…”

“Oh yeah,” Nat chuckled. “You looked like a kid in a candy store for a moment there.”

“I’m sure I didn’t,” Vola lied.

“Yes! You even started to pick at your tusk.” Nat laughed. “You wanna watch one? TV’s only got one channel. 24/7 Documentaries. Nature. History. Politics. All knowledge, all the time!” she mimicked.

“Nah, I mean. I appreciate it but it’s fine…”

“You suck at lying and also you have a terrible poker face.” Nat pulled a remote out from a pocket on the side of the couch and powered on the TV. As the silent whine of technology cut through the comfortable quiet, Vola fidgeted with her tusk.  
  


“It’s really not a big deal,” she lied again. Inside, 6-year old Vola was already plopping down in front of the TV with a glass of juice and animal crackers, ready to learn anything about the world. “I mean, I can help clean up since you cooked or I can head ho--”

Nat tossed the remote between them on the couch and lowered the lights. “Honestly? I need some time to think about what you said. I wanna bring Mara in, but...it's gonna be a process. This is a good distraction.” A procession of penguins raced across an icy plain to the swell of orchestral music. “Plus I think it would be nice to watch a documentary with someone who would wanna talk about it too.”

The half-orc tore her eyes away and gave a curious look to her friend. “Really?”

The Aasimar nodded and hugged her tea mug to her chest. “Want a refill?”

“That would be great,” she grinned as the narrator began to regal the life and trials of The Dire Penguins of the Southern Floes. 

===================================================================


	2. The Edge of the Big Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the most surreal and fantastic hunts of her life sends Vola racing to share the tale with her best friend. Instead of warm tea and quiet talks, she finds a side of her friend's life that unnerves the Half-Orc, and places the Aasimar's dreams in her hands.

===================================================================

She’d prepared for an earful from Ahroun, so the lies came easily to her tongue when she returned to the Farm. Holding up the “repaired” stun gun as proof (thanks to Nat and some store brand glue), she wove a smooth story about borrowing Dahl’s workbench in exchange for a fun night and late breakfast. It seemed to satisfy the dragonborn, but she didn’t miss the suspicious glint in Doran’s eye. Between that and the offhanded comments about her “looking rested”, it seemed like the holes in her lies were getting more and more obvious.

When she would peer into the cracked bathroom mirror, the reflection that stared back seemed like a long-lost acquaintance. Her eyes were clearer, the bags under them gone. Her tusks were fading from a dingy yellow back to a healthy white, and her gray-green skin was warm with a pink blush instead of gritty and ashen. She’d successfully managed to wean off the worst and the effects were starting to show. Already Vola felt better than she had in months, buoyed by the burst of self-confidence at this small success. 

The others had started to comment on it too, sometimes favorably, sometimes not. Victor in particular found her new disinterest personally insulting. For him, refusing a hit was the same as refusing his company, and each time Vola declined, he’d sulk on his pallet for hours. Eventually anything she said would be met with a sneer from him. Cerise still talked to her, but gradually that became the norm only when Victor wasn’t around. Once again the isolation set in, only this time it seemed to matter less to her than before. Was she evolving without them, or were they evolving without her?

The weeks passed without another opportunity to escape and see Nat. Ahroun kept Vola’s hands full, and not just with translating the runes on the Device. Her latest task came after a particularly nasty hunt. The contract had been vague, something about a rich client needing help corralling a “pet that had escaped its cage”. That “pet” had turned out to be a nine-foot-long displacer beast, and the “corral” had been the client’s four-story glass mansion. The panther-like creature had eluded them for hours, using its light-bending abilities to hide and strike from the shadows. Finally the dragonborn had taken it down, but not before it had landed a blow that tore the scales on his face to ribbons. Only one wound, but the poor animal had paid with its life as their leader mercilessly hacked it to pieces with the black blade that always hung at his side. When they’d finally returned to the Farm, his temper was pushed to the point where even Doran was replying to their leader with “Sir”.

Ahroun’s orders had been given to Vola through teeth gritted in pain, each word chipped from glass. After three days of working around the clock, she completed some makeshift Perception Filtering Goggles out of old sunglasses the twins brought her back from the gas station. Once that was done, it was back to the translations. With barely any time to rest between the hunt, the enchanting, the constant noise, and the endless grind of research, she began to feel that mask of numbness stitch itself into her face again. If she’d had quiet time to work at the library, or the clinic, or at Nat’s apartment, maybe the jumble of Infernal and Celestial might begin to make sense. She’d maybe even be able to get in a nap. How nice would that be?

By day 4, the strain was too much. Grudgingly, she accepted a handful of sleeping pills from Victor one night, much to his pleased surprise. Betrayal and shame burned in her chest as she slowly drifted to sleep. The chemical fog that haunted her waking moments the next day persisted long after coffee. The words on the page swam in front of her eyes, and more than once she found herself drifting off, only jerking awake when her forehead met the table. 

_ Fuck this.  _ She had to do something different. Maybe Nat would have some advice or she could vent in a quick text? Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she furtively snuck out her phone and typed rapidly.

_ Made it 4 days without using but caved last night. I suck. _

The reply was quick.

_ No you don't. We knew it would be a long road. 4 days is a big accomplishment! Now go for another 4.  _

The thought of another 4 days of halting, tormented progress made Vola quail internally, but she swallowed. Her friend believed in her. She wouldn’t disappoint again.

_ How’s your goal going? Got Mara addicted to punk yet?  _

_ No progress. Too nervous. Sorry.  _

A small smile decorated her face. Her friend’s problems were different, but it was nice to know Vola wasn’t the only one struggling. She fired off one more text before the slam of the front door made her hide her phone again.

_ Don’t apologize. We’ll both try harder.  _

=======================================================================

“Get to the center of the house!” Ahroun roared over the radio. Vola ducked as a twenty pound dumbbell flew towards her face like a missile. The crack of iron against drywall rattled her teeth. That was too close.

“Kinda pinned down right now boss!” Vola howled in reply. In the corner, Cerise was hacking at a pair of jump ropes that had wound their way around her neck. The younger woman’s face was black with streaks of makeup, her eyes glassy as she sawed at the nylon wrapped around her throat. “Hang on Cerise!”

“Nothing else matters, kill the core! That’s an order!” 

Vola holstered the radio. Grabbing a boxing pad, she braced herself behind it like a shield and sprinted towards the other woman. The  _ thwack  _ knocked the wind from her lungs, a dull pain blossoming on her shoulder as more projectiles whistled past her. She slid into the corner like it was a home run, dropping the pad as she did so. Cerise’s eyes pleaded with her, her mouth opening and closing helplessly. Vola scrambled for her water bottle, opening the stopper and spraying the contents over the rope. The Mimic shuddered, writhing in pain. As the stench of stale urine and the cloying sweetness of ant poison filled the air, Cerise took a deep, painful breath. Instantly she retched and Vola caught her in her arms. Scooping the slender woman up, she hoisted the boxing pad over her shoulder and made a run for the door. 

Vola dashed around the corner and dumped Cerise to the ground. “Hang onto this!” The half-orc shoved the water bottle into the human woman’s shaking hand and kicked the door shut, flipping the deadbolt. Four dents bristled into the steel, right where Vola’s head should have been, and she danced back nervously. At her feet, Cerise held the water bottle in front of her like a sword, eyes saucers as she stared up at Vola. Big black bruises had begun to form on her neck, the pattern of the nylon fibers seared into her skin.

“You okay? Can you talk?”

“Y-” The woman retched again, coughed, and nodded. “Y-Yeah.” Her voice was hoarser than usual, but Cerise was able to get to her feet. “Just real pissed that I nearly bit it to a fucking jump rope.”

The sound of screams echoed on the radio, followed by a wet hacking sound and the maniacal laughter of their boss. The banging from behind the door stopped with a clatter, and the silence left in its wake was somehow louder than the noise. “Gotcha, you bastard!” the triumphant yell of their leader rang throughout the house.

“Thanks for saving me, Vee,” Cerise croaked. “When you were pissing in a bottle all last week we thought you were nuts.”

“Yeah well, maybe next time give me the benefit of the doubt. I might know a thing or two.” Vola wasn’t one to gloat, but it was nice for a minute to hear acknowledgement that she’d been right.  _ A Journeyman’s Guide To The Natural World  _ might have been written five hundred years ago, but Meric of Dorjor had come to her rescue once again. The young cleric had detailed the account of a monastery infected by a parasitic creature that mimicked everyday objects. Only a mysterious “acid bath” found in the village laundress’ kit had had any effect. From there, it wasn’t hard to follow the breadcrumbs and cross-reference her hypothesis with a few other books from the time period. “Chamber lye”, or stale urine, was high in ammonia. Of course, Ahroun had tuned out her excited muttering about “alkaline, not acid, c’mon Meric”. All he’d seen was a grumpy half-orc saving her pee in a bottle. The rest of the group followed his lead and laughed along nervously, although Doran had reluctantly accepted the warm bottle she pressed into his hand. 

_ Bet they aren’t laughing anymore, _ Vola mused as she and Cerise marched up the stairs to the main floor of the house. The client had come to them through some old fixer friend of Ahroun’s, someone he kept tight-lipped about. When they’d arrived on the scene, it was clear from the start that something was off. The house hadn’t been visited in weeks, yet the car was in the driveway. A window had been broken in the back of the kitchen, opening into a luxurious split-level home. Ahroun and Victor had taken the upstairs, Doran and Gaius the main floor. That left Vola and Cerise to take the basement.

The whole way home, Ahroun tapped his claws on the steering wheel in a satisfied manner. The Mimic nest had been in the master bedroom, wrapping the client’s corpse and the four poster bed in a rippling mass of oily flesh. Although their chance of getting paid was now zero, the house had been chock full of valuables. “Strip it bare,” he’d ordered, and the group had rushed to obey before someone in the neighborhood called the cops. By the time they left, the sun had long set and their van groaned with the added weight. But they’d scored big time. Doran had grabbed canned goods, new blankets, and a better coffeemaker for the house. Victor had emptied the medicine cabinets and all the liquor bottles into a giant trash bag. But Ahroun had scored the best. As they convened back at the Farm, the dragonborn dumped his haul onto the kitchen table. Stacks of wrapped bills, four bricks of cocaine, three Cabot 1911 Gibeon pistols, and a snarl of expensive jewelry all met their eyes at once. 

“Fuck me, bossman,” Victor said in awe. “You put us all to shame!” He reached out for one of the bricks, but a warning look from Ahroun caused him to sheepishly withdraw his hand.

  
“Everyone will get paid, soon. This stuff has to be laundered first. Gotta make sure no one goes asking questions about stuff that went missing. I’m meeting with someone later about that.” At the disappointed looks of the group, he added, “But. Each of you can take one souvenir. Not often you get to say you fought a whole house and won.” 

Doran spoke first. “Thanks, boss. That means a lot.” He chose an unmarked roll of bills from the pile. “House expenses,” he offered as an explanation, and Ahroun nodded in vague approval. Gaius found a credit card and USB drive in the mix. The twins grabbed one of the smaller bricks of cocaine and immediately vanished upstairs.

That left Vola. She could feel the dragonborn’s eyes on her as she peered at the stack, rifling through it. Nothing appealed to her as a trinket or trophy. Drugs were something she went through Dahl for. The twins would party in their own way, and none of them would be invited. Gaius would be heads-down cracking the encryption on the USB drive, seeing what valuable information he could fence from it. If anything, she would’ve taken the cash, had Doran not beat her to it. What was left, then?

The glint of something green and shiny caught her eye from underneath a tangle of gold chains and pearl necklaces. Gently she eased out a large ring. Upon closer inspection, the ring was in fact a massive spider with an emerald growing out of its back. The jewel and platinum setting were real, but the metal transitioned to chitin and hair almost seamlessly. A dozen tiny dead eyes reflected back at her. Fascinating...

Setting the spider ring aside, she fished out a beetle-shaped brooch - or was it a brooch-shaped beetle? - patterned in onyx and pink diamond. Gold filigree filled the separations in the shellacked carapace. Doran opened his mouth to speak as Ahroun clicked his teeth.

“You want dead bugs?” The dragonborn asked, incredulous.

“Yep,” Vola replied quietly.

Doran sighed. “Why Vee? Those aren’t even real gems.”

  
“Precisely.”

Ahroun laughed in disbelief. “So everyone else chooses the coke or the cash, and you choose fake dead bug jewelry. Why am I not surprised.”   
  
“The infection pattern wasn’t random,” Vola shot back. “It  _ chose  _ certain things and not others. Like this. The Mimic could’ve infected the studs in the wall, could’ve brought the whole house crashing down on us. But it didn’t. Everything it infected was small.”

“So?” Doran asked.

“So aren’t you even the least bit curious why?”

“Fine,” the dragonborn relented. “Have it your way. Just don’t bitch when you get the same cut as everyone else. Your little science project better not cut into figuring out that device either.”    
  


“How long is it gonna take to fence this stuff?” Doran asked, flipping through the bills in his hands.

“Week. Maybe.”   
  
The human nodded. “Fine. I’ll take care of house stuff. Gaius will drain what he can from the card and make sure it doesn’t come back to us. The twins will...well….” A small shudder went up his spine. “Vee? Go into town. Spend time with Dahl.”

“The hell she is!” Ahroun snapped. “She’s got homework!”   
  
“Homework she’s been working on non-stop for weeks. Look at her, she’s barely sleeping--”

“I’m right here--” 

“--and now she wants to go study a bunch o’ bugs instead of relaxing. Hell, last time she went out she came back looking like she spent it in a library instead of blowin’ off steam.”

“Fine. Vee. Go see Short Stack. Get fucked and fucked up. But back to homework on Monday. And you better be prepared to make up time.”

“Wha…!” Vola’s mouth dropped open, but the glint in Ahroun’s eye stopped her. “Fine.” Forcing any trace of elation from her face, she shoved the bugs into her jacket pocket and stood to go. As she turned, Doran’s slender hand tugged her elbow. He studied her for a moment.

“Vee…” he warned. “Not a damn word about this to Dahl. None. Especially about the drugs. He brings up anything about a raid or a hit or….”   
  
She curled her lip. “I’m not a fucking amateur.” 

“Fair enough,” he conceded, releasing her. As she put her weapons away, Vola’s mind was racing in anticipation. The memory of cinnamon fries and curry poutine was so strong she could practically taste it. 

_ Hey,  _ she texted quickly. _ Wanna hang after work? You won’t believe what happened today! No patch-up. Just dinner? _

The reply came back as she slid her jacket onto her shoulders.  _ Raincheck? Tonight’s the night! _

Disappointment swept over her, but it was tinged with curiosity.  _ The night for what? _

_ I convinced Mara to come over on a Friday for once. I’m gonna show her all of it. The music, everything. It’s time.  _

_ Good luck!  _ she shot back before pocketing her phone. Oh well. It was silly to assume Nat would always be free when she was. At least the bugs weren’t going anywhere, and if she did end up at Dahl’s earlier than expected, he’d be sure to make it worth her while. But first, the library. It was barely evening and that meant the upper level where they kept the old tomes of magic and pre-LeQuin history would be deserted. After that, maybe a stop at the taco truck on her way to Dahl’s. He’d be grumpy she’d been away for so long, but free dinner and sex would wear off most of his rough edges.

An hour later, the city skyline rolled into view. The bus ride had been quiet, the fields and farms slowly fading to black as the sun set. She smiled at the horizon as the Ten Towers glittered against the twilight sky. Idly, she wondered how her friend’s night was going. By now Mara would have arrived. They would just be sitting down to dinner. Or would Nat rip the bandaid off right away and just show her girlfriend everything? Mara would probably be shocked at first, but Vola trusted in her friend’s open-faced vulnerability to melt any ice between the couple. Hopefully Nat would have good news to share in the morning. 

Pulling her phone back out to wish a quick goodnight to her friend, her eyes caught the incoming message. Fear ran like ice through her veins.

_ I NEED HELP _

===================================================================

The bus rolled to a stop a block from Sol Circle Apartments, and Vola was the first one off. Normally the looks she got in this neighborhood washed over her, but she was grateful for the spike of anger this time. It kept her anxiety in check. Nat hadn’t replied to any of her messages. What if she’d been hurt? What if someone from the clinic had followed Nat home? 

She punched in the code twice before she got it right. The glass door clicked open and the half-orc strode towards the elevator as fast as she dared, patting her jacket pockets for Reduviidae. Still there.

“Good evening...um...Doctor Shaviantar’s friend? Right?” 

Shit. 

Forcing a fake smile, she turned slowly. The young Tabaxi’s uncertain face met hers. “Uhhh...um...yeah. Vola. Hi.” She gave a small wave and watched the clerk shuffle behind the desk. Possibly for a weapon. No, this wasn’t the Silks. A phone, then. She thought fast. “Theo, right? Nat gave me the code to the building. I hope that is okay.”

Theo gave her a confused look, hand frozen. “You mean Doctor Shaviantar?”

  
“I thought she hated it when we called her that.” Vola forced her voice into a friendly tone. 

“Hah! Yeah! She does, but you know how it is.” His hands were both back on the desk now, his demeanor thawed. “Is she expecting you tonight? She didn’t mention it.” 

“Yep, movie night. It was supposed to start at seven, but I got caught in traffic.” 

“Ah, that makes sense.” Theo settled back in his chair. “The other woman left about a half hour ago. Shall I ring her up when she comes back?”

That had to be Mara. “That would be great, thanks.” Casually, she strolled to the elevators. “Have a good night Theo!”

“You as well, Miss Vola,” but she was already around the corner, hammering on the call button. After years, it gave a cheerful  _ ding  _ and she walked inside. As the meter steadily climbed, she checked herself one more time. Every muscle was a tight coil, ready to spring. Reduviidae was clenched tightly in her fist. 

504 was closed when she approached. Pressing her ear to the door, Vola heard the faint sound of discordant basslines and the violent clatter of objects. Fearing the worst, she tested the doorknob. Unlocked.

Signs of violence lay everywhere. A pile of torn magazines lay in front of the couch, spilling off the coffee table. Several pages glowed with live embers, actively crumbling into ash. Hastily, Vola snatched up the burning papers and threw them into the sink, waiting until they were soaked to turn the tap off. The living room stank of burnt carpet. A handprint, small and thin, was seared into the wall. More burn marks and scratches covered throw pillows and the leather of the couch. Smashed vinyl records and shattered CD cases littered the floor and hallway. A cracked bowl of overturned curry spilled over the edge of the breakfast island. The air reeked of brimstone and sulphur, and her tattoos prickled with Evocation magic. 

Forcing the anxiety back, she pressed against the wall outside of the hallway leading to the bedroom. From across the door Vola spotted a large crack in the drywall. Under it was the burnt husk of what looked like a silicone vibrator. The music was louder, as was the clattering she’d first heard from the door. Both sounds emanated from the bathroom. Along with the melody, an angelic voice sobbed in harmony.  _ "I'm already rough, I'm already lean, I'm already wanting to be obscene...." _

More magazines were scattered on the bed. Drawers stood gaping open, their contents shredded and torn. With increasing dread, she nudged the bathroom door open. Her chest lurched with dismay at the sight that lay before her. The tile was smeared with a deep stain - hair dye, she noted with immense relief. The mirror was covered in pictures of women in mohawks and facial piercings. A pair of clippers dangled by its cord from the outlet. Thick chunks of white hair scattered the floor like snow. And in the middle of the chaos was her friend, naked save for a pair of sweatpants, and sobbing with her knees pulled up to her chin. 

“N-Nat?”

The Aasimar jerked as if struck, scrambling backwards instinctively. A wave of heat rolled towards the half-orc like an oven, causing her to throw her hand up to shield her face. Nat’s eyes were rings of black, creeping trails of kohl melting down her cheek. One side of her head was sheared clean, while the other was hacked to the shoulder, the ends shriveled and burnt. A pair of melted scissors lay steaming in the sink behind her. 

“Vola?” The words were a hiccup, and her chin quivered at the sight of her friend. “Y-you…”

Vola knelt down to Nat’s level. "Are you hurt?”

“N-n-no.” Green eyes scanned the small woman anyway, checking for cuts, bruises, or scrapes. She’d done this a thousand times for her family, and was grateful for the way her hands mechanically took over. “Sh-sh-she left. She left...she said...awful things... _ hic...hic…” _

_ “But if I don't like what I see  _

_ And my grip starts loosening _

_ The edge of the big reveal _

_ Could be the end of the story” _

As the song’s whining guitars and thrumming bassline wound down, a moment of silence filled the apartment before the song started again. The noise grated, but she forced the irritation back. Nat needed her. 

“What happened?” 

“She...she said I’m ugly. Disgusting. Corrupted.”

Vola stole a glance at the pictures taped to the mirror. “Because you want to look like them?” 

Nat nodded. 

Vola’s reply was soft, but the growing anger gave it a tremor. “Where is she now?” 

“Duh-duh-dunno...there was...shouting and I just...I made us dinner, and I wanted her help doing this...I wanted her to be with me as I ...I ….”

The chorus of the song looped around again. 

“I’m tired of not feeling like me...I’m tired of hiding. I wanted her to be the one to...to...but she called me…”

Vola touched her hand carefully. The heat was dissipating. Despite Nat’s emotional state, the divine fire had begun to calm itself. “Nat? What did she call you? It’s okay. She’s not here.”

Fresh tears spilled, cheeks burning with shame. “She said I’m a slut and sinner and dirty. That..I’m….I’m a whore.”

Vola chose her next words carefully, fighting to keep the snarl out of her voice. “Did she do this to you?”

“N-no...I..I..kicked her out.”

“So who chopped your hair?”

“I did.”, she whispered. “I fucked up. I can’t do it. I’m no real punk. I can’t even…”

Vola touched the tip of her tongue to her teeth, rocking back on her heels. She needed to think, needed to get the smell of brimstone out of her nose, but she couldn’t leave her friend in this state. Her eye scanned the collage once more, landing on the picture of one woman who had a black to purple ombre dye effect in her hair. Plucking it from the wall, she held it out to Nat. "Was this what you were going for?"

Nat’s eyes stared blankly at the picture, not taking it from Vola’s outstretched hand. “Yeah. I was so...angry and scared. It was like she came in looking for a fight, and as soon as she saw the music and the magazines, she just...exploded. I tried to tell her how I was feeling, about how tired I was of hiding from her…”

“Did you two break up?” 

“No. She said she was going to pray for me. That I was lucky her faith and vows were strong enough for the two of us.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I...I don’t know.”

Vola let out a small, slow breath. What was the right move here? The storm had passed, but there was a lot of wreckage left in its wake. Nat clearly needed a friend and leaving her alone was a bad idea, especially if her girlfriend had a change of heart and came back for round two.

"Well,” Vola heard her own voice say, "You've already started. No turning back now. Give me the clippers."

Nat looked up at her with luminous blue eyes, gracelessly snorting back tears and snot. "Really?"

Vola stood, holding her hand out for the clippers. "Yeah. I mean I’m no stylist, but if the two of us can beat a Yuan-Ti curse, we can sort out a mohawk--" 

The rest of the words were cut off as the Aasimar wrapped her in a tight hug. Nat’s slender arms squeezed tightly around Vola’s abdomen and she buried her face in the half-orc’s chest, a fresh round of sobs and hiccups rattling through her small frame. They had hugged before, but it was all half-hugs or pats on the back. This was a first. Even Dahl had always waited for her to make the first move. Nat had slipped past her personal bubble so quickly - and oddly enough, Vola didn’t mind. The lilac forehead tucked itself under her chin, and she found herself stroking the fine white hair comfortingly until the shuddering stopped.

After a few minutes, Nat slowly untangled herself and glanced with embarrassment at the smear of make up she left on Vola’s shirt. “Oh. Sorry. I forgot…”

“S’fine. I mean...this shirt is gonna get dirty anyways.” Both of them seemed to realize at the same time that Nat was still topless. Heat rose in Vola’s cheeks and she quickly averted her eyes as Nat scooped a towel around herself.

“Sorry--”

“It’s okay,” Nat replied, folding the terrycloth firmly over her breasts. “Just bodies. Nothing you haven’t seen before, I’m sure,” she joked.

“Truth,” Vola lied. Changing the subject, she added, “So. How much of the dye do you have left?”

Nat frowned at the mess. “Maybe a quarter of the bottle. Not much.”

“Huh. And how short were you wanting to go?” Vola nodded to the hair on the floor.    
  
“I um..I dunno...just most of the right side is already gone, and I kinda like this length on the left but it's so uneven…” Nat trailed off and cocked her head, staring up at Vola. “I just realized. You do that face when you’re thinking.”

“What face?” she replied, suddenly self-conscious.

“Where you sorta….jut your chin out and press your tongue against the back of your top teeth.” Nat mimicked the expression, her mouth slightly open and eyebrows furrowed. “It’s when you’re trying to work through something complicated.”

Vola shrugged uncomfortably. “Well...I’ve never done this before. So?”

“No, nothing. Just noticed.” Nat smiled reassuringly. The Aasimar was being kind, not cruel, but Vola was glad to drive past it all the same and get back to the problem at hand. Cutting the hair, dyeing it, then styling it. Then what? She’d never put makeup on in her life, unless it was face paint for camouflage. But how hard could it be? 

“Okay….okay. So first thing, let’s clean up the mess and then see where we’re at. Where’s your broom and some paper towels?” 

“In the hall closet,” Nat replied, getting up to show her. As they entered the bedroom, the Aasiar stopped short at the giant crack in the wall. Both gazes drifted simultaneously to the broken sex toy on the floor, and Nat’s face fell again. Slowly, she reached for the broken mess of plastic and silicone.

“How’d that happen?” Vola asked, already knowing the answer.

Golden heat and light traveled down Nat’s hands. With a crack, the vibrator snapped back together. Vola watched with conflicted amazement as her friend carefully flicked the motor on and off to confirm it worked. Moving to the wall, she repeated the spell and stood silently at it as the crack evaporated. When she was done, the wall looked as pristine as before. 

“Nat…?” Vola asked, a hint of warning under her breath.   
  
The younger woman’s face was as emotionless and blank as her own when she was around the Farm. She knew what was going on behind her eyes all too well. She found herself following the younger woman into the kitchen, past the broom closet. Nat picked up the broken bowl from the counter, erasing the crack, before gently depositing it in the sink. Mechanically she gathered the split CD cases, melting away the spiderwebs in the plastic. The scorch marks and burns in the pillows were gone in seconds. Soon the only traces of the fight were the pages still soaking in the sink. They went into the trash with a wet  _ thump. _   
  


As she tried to reach past Vola to get to the broom closet, a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks. 

“How many times has this happened?” She didn’t bother hiding the anger pulling her voice taut as a piano wire.

“A f-few times,” Nat stuttered, looking at the floor. “It only happens when I um...when I try to bring up sex or…music or...”   
  
“Does she hit you?” 

  
“No!” Nat responded sharply. “No! She wouldn’t! Just...being Embered, it's hard to control our tempers...”   
  
“You control yours.” Silence. A horrible thought crossed the half-orc’s mind. “Have you hit her?”   
  
“No!” Hurt swept over Nat’s face. “I would never! But...she argues me into this corner and I...um...I have to use her own vows against her.”   
  
Vola’s face was unreadable as she quietly took the broom and dustpan from her friend and strode into the bathroom, leaving Nat alone in her now-clean living room. The Aasimar nervously walked back into the bathroom where Vola was already sweeping the hair into the waste bin. “Can you get a stool?” Doing as she was asked, Nat returned with a chair from the kitchen. Vola stood with scissors in hand, examining the heat marks warping the metal. She passed them over to Nat. “Do you mind?” 

“O-of course.” The scissors snapped back to straightness and she handed them to her friend, who patted the stool for Nat to sit. As Nat obeyed, she ventured the question burning in her mind. “Uh...Vola? Did I make you mad?” She tried to turn and look at the Half-Orc but a gentle grip on her head turned her back to face herself. Nat studied her reflection as if seeing it for the first time - lilac skin smeared with melted makeup, bags under her eyes, blue eyes dim, and her hair a tangled and burnt mess. Calloused grey fingers lifted her chin slightly, the skin rough against her smooth face.

“How do you use her vows against her.” The question was clear and calm, the tone flat. The first  _ snip  _ of the scissors sent a lock of snowy hair drifting to the ground.

The words were harder to get out with her reflection staring back at her. “In our church, Embered are...middle caste. My mother and most church leaders are Radiants. They have this power...with their voice...”   
  
“You too?”   
  
“N-No. But sometimes I feel like I just have to want something, and it happens, and...when Mara gets too angry and looks like..like….”

“Like she’s going to hit you,” Vola finished.  _ Snip. Snip. _   
  
“I just know when she screams at me, I start to get...brighter, like Mother does when she’s upset, and Mara...I think she remembers her vows and....”   
  
“So you pull rank. To keep her from hitting you.”  _ Snip. _ “And every time a fight happens how much time do you spend erasing the damage?”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes and her lip trembled. Their eyes met in the mirror and the half-orc’s gaze was serious and unwavering. “Hair grows back. I’m sure you could use magic or a potion to grow it all back quick. Erase the damage, like everything else.”

“I would never,” Nat whispered.

“But you could. Just like you could erase all my scars. But you don’t. Why?”

The words were nearly inaudible. “Because they’re not mine to erase.” Vola nodded. “But I would if you asked me to.” 

“I know. But I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Nat fell silent, considering this. In the quiet, the Silversun Pickups faded, then began again. “ _ I've already learned a bit of sin, enough already let me in--” _

  
“Vola?” she asked, strength steadying her voice. “Can you hand me my phone?”

“Sure.” Doing as asked, her friend pushed the device in her hand. Scrolling through her playlist, the Silversun Pickups stopped abruptly, and a simmering angry bassline replaced it. Nat smiled as a woman hissed over the warning purr of synthesizers.    
  
“ _ Hips! Tits! Lips! Power! Hips! Tits! Lips! Power!” _

“Thank the gods,” Vola said dryly. “I was getting sick of that song.”

Nat’s reply was resolute. “Me too.”

========================================================================

Punk and industrial music roared around the pair as they worked. With each snip of scissors Nat felt something falling away. “You burned this pretty badly. Doesn’t look like I can save a lot.” Grey fingers clutched the hair right at her chin. “We can cut it here, and then give you a mohawk. You want both sides gone? Not just a side-shave?”

She didn’t even need to think. Her reflection stared back and her, and for the first time, there was a peek of someone that looked like....her. Someone who was who was unafraid. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Shrugging and flipping on the clippers, Vola began to run them over the skin. The mechanical buzz drowned out the L7 song blaring from her phone. The sound of the metal blades rattled in her ears as Vola carefully sheared her, revealing soft lavender skin that had never before seen the light of day. Occasionally she would hit a thick snag, and as the machine buzzed in anger, Nat would jump at the sudden tug. Vola would apologize, which was waved off. Truth was, she didn’t mind the pain. Even if it was just a small nick, she didn’t want to erase the scar. 

She was done covering up. 

Progress got slower as Vola shaved along the other side of her head, obsessively holding a comb at the hairline to keep things symmetrical, grumbling at her lines. “It’s hair, not alchemy,” the Aasimar teased.   
  
“It still needs balance, or your new ‘do is gonna look like shit.” Vola gently flicked her in the ear. “Chin down...getting the back of your neck.”

Staring back down into her phone Nat looked at the array of other pictures and styles she saved for this moment. Which color? Which design? She lost herself in thought as Vola continued shearing. With each pass, more and more of her old self fell to the floor, pooling around her feet. 

The buzzing stopped. Cool air brushed the back of her scalp as Vola brushed her head clean of stray hairs. Green eyes met her own in the mirror, an undercurrent of worry in them. “What do you think?”

The white hair curved against the side of her cheek, falling in a messy arc to her chin. The sides were shorn down to the skin. She’d never realized the skin near her roots was a soft pink, and she touched it in wonder as she leaned close to the mirror.

Her smile was huge, her eyes shining as she glanced up at her friend. “I love it.”

A relieved grin took the place of the frown on the half-orc’s face. “Hell yeah. Step one done. Step two - dye.”   
  
“I don’t think I have enough anymore to go full purple.”

“Well, let’s see how far we get.” The room got quiet again as Vola mixed the pigment into the bowl and began to tear aluminum foil into strips. When the first stroke of the brush stained the white hair, the tears began to well again in Nat’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” The apology came out before she could stop it.

“For?” 

“What you had to see tonight. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. And I know you’re still mad, even though you’ve been great tonight.”

“Honestly? I’m mad you didn’t tell me sooner.” Nat blinked, speechless, as Vola continued to stir. “You’re my friend. My only friend, actually. I’ve told you so much about the shit that is my life. Stuff Dahl--er, my guy-- doesn't even know. Every slip. Every mistake. And you forgive me. You keep me going. But when it comes to your own life...” 

“I think I get it. I shouldn’t have--”

“I don’t like that she treats you like this.” The words came out in a growl.

Nat went quiet and looked down.   
  
“I don’t know everything about how life is where you’re from, but you and I both know how situations like this look out here. How they often end.” She let her point hang in the air for a moment before Nat silently nodded in agreement. “I like to stay in my own lane. You know that. But lately I find that I like our friendship more. I never thought I would say that about anyone, but I like that I have someone. And to think that you’re bottling up shit like this? I mean...what if you hadn’t reached out to me tonight? What would’ve happened? You erase it all and go back to pretending like it’s all fine?”

  
“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just...don’t let her fuck you up like this. You are scared of so few things. The person you love shouldn’t be one of them. Don’t let her take away my only friend. Don’t forget that you matter to more people than her. What would you tell me if I ever told you my guy did what she did tonight?”

Nat chuckled nervously. “I’d ask how many bones you broke.” When her friend didn’t return the smile, her grin faded. “I dunno what to do. I’ve never dated anyone else, and I feel like I can’t give up. Like I’m falling if I do.”   
  
  
“The only person you’re failing is you. You talk about trying harder. Try harder for yourself,” Vola grumbled continuing to paint. 

  
  
Nat closed her eyes until she pushed back the tears she had been holding in. As she opened them again, the floor was a blurry swirl. “Yeah...yeah I should.”

Half an hour later, Nat stood beneath the cold shower watching threads of deep purple spiral down the drain. There was no going back from here, and the thought made her giddy with equal parts anxiety and anticipation. Tonight had been a roller coaster of emotions, with Mara’s outburst as a painful backdrop to this moment. And her friend in the living room....what must she think of her?

As she dried her hair with the towel, cursing that she just stained it in the process, she hesitated to look up. So much had changed for her in the past few hours, much less the past few weeks. The changes she made to the clinic, and ways she bent the rules. The outreach and connections she made. Her friendship with Vola. The way Mara had become more and more intolerable towards her. The pulse of magic beating within her heart. She braced herself against the vanity as the whirlwind of change threatened to push her over. She had kept her head down as she pushed headlong into all of the trials Shatrava had thrown at her, and now the hardest one was reflecting upon who she was becoming. 

Whoever it was in the mirror when she looked up wouldn't be Natalyiah Shavantar, upstart daughter and future leader of the Church of Nakshatra. It would be Nat. Just Nat. 

_ Try harder for yourself. _ _  
_ _  
_

She raised her eyes to the mirror.

=======================================================================

Vola sat on the couch, turning the Mimic Beetle around in her fingers, admiring how the carapace glimmered in the soft light. In the kitchen she could smell the homemade curry reheating in the slow cooker. Her own thoughts bubbled uneasily as she waited for Nat.

Mara was getting out of control. Granted, the other Aasimar hadn’t actually hit Nat, but so fucking what? She’d destroyed everything else and squashed her girlfriend’s self-esteem in the process. And there was Nat, wiping away the damage with an empty smile and pretending nothing had happened. It was the only time she had ever seen the healer without a look of hope in her eyes. The memory made her shudder. That was not the person who pulled her back from oblivion. That was someone else, and that person annoyed her.

Putting the bug back in her pocket, she leaned back against the cushions and stared down the hallway at the cracked door to the bedroom. The sound of the shower had ended several minutes ago, and Nat was in there either gushing or grieving at her reflection. She wasn’t sure which, but she had hopes for the former, especially after how they colored the hair. They'd opted in the end to just dye the ends, creating a hard line of purple starting at the cheek. She’d done her best, and even if the stark two-tone look wasn’t perfect, she hoped it would at least be passable until Nat could get to a real stylist.

As the Half-Orc’s thoughts began to spiral back around to the start once more, the muffled sound of hard punk rock drifted from the bedroom. The words grew louder as the door cracked open.

_ Rebel girl, rebel girl! _

_ Rebel girl you are the queen of my world! _

_ Rebel girl, rebel girl! _

_ I know I wanna take you home! _

_ I wanna try on your clothes, uh! _

Nat walked nervously down the hallway, wearing a black tank top with a skeleton playing a coffin-shaped stand-up bass.  _ The Nekromantix  _ was splashed across it in red bloody text. The Aasimar had paired it with a black choker, red plaid mini-skirt, striped knee socks, and black Converses. Fresh kohl was smudged around her eyes, and the enchanted leather strap was wrapped secure around her wrist. The dyed hair was a deep, pure amethyst against the white. 

The professional young church doctor with an embroidered apron was long gone. 

“So?” Nat asked, anxiety shaking her voice..

Vola pretended to look studious and critical for a moment. “Hrms….I think maybe you put in the right amount of cinnamon, but I still think you skimped on the salt.”

“Seriously?!” Nat threw a pillow at her friend. 

Vola dodged the square projectile and returned the aghast look with a grin. “I dunno how to put it but...you remember when I found that jacket? That look you said was on my face?”   
  
  
  
“Yeah?”   
  
  
  
“I think you’re the one with it now. You found what fits you. Plus, if you were to ever tell me to look for the Angel of The Silks...?” She twirled a finger in her direction. “Looking way more Silk than Glass right now.”

A wave of euphoria swept past Nat as she digested the words. Looking across the living room at the patio window she caught a glimpse of herself. She liked the girl smiling like an exhausted dumbass back at her. Truth be told, the look was kinda hot...especially with her tit hanging out like… “Oh gods!” She yelped, adjusting her shirt. “Sorry.”

The hunter waved away the apology and got up from the couch, looking away to hide the blush. “Like I said, you made the right change to the recipe but missed some spices. Namely maybe a sports bra and some boots. You like the hair?”  
  
  
Looking closer at herself in the window she brushed the mohawk back a bit, revealing a small burn mark here or a cut there where the clippers snagged. Repressing the urge to heal them, she ran a finger across the wounds, taking in the small pinpricks of pain. “Perfect. No regrets.”

“Good!” The clatter of bowls on the coffee table made her turn around. “Ready to see how your other experiment went?”

“Definitely.” She settled at the island and accepted the bowl Vola handed to her. Carefully, she took a bite. Then another. Vola did the same. 

“Um…” Vola started. “It’s...uh…”

“Terrible,” Nat finished. “You don’t have to finish it.”

“Thank the gods.” Vola spat her mouthful into a paper towel. “What  _ is  _ that?”

“I thought it was sugar? The recipe called for sugar,” Nat wailed. Vola opened the cabinet and withdrew a bag of white powder. 

“This stuff?”

“Yeah?”

Vola flipped the label around. DISHWASHER POWDER was proudly displayed on the bag, the logo sporting a gleaming plate and glass. Nat stared at the bag, dumbfounded.

A laugh burst from the Aasimar’s mouth before she could stop it. A grin slowly crept over Vola’s face, and soon both women were clutching their sides, heaving as tears streamed down their cheeks. Several minutes passed before both of them had calmed down enough to breathe. Nat carefully wiped her streaked eye makeup from her face with a paper towel as Vola dumped the remains of the slow cooker’s contents into the trash.

“Well, we’re one for one tonight. I still call that a win,” Vola said finally, chuckling. “Not everything can turn out perfect the first time.”

“That is so on par for today,” Nat joked in response. “Wanna just order a pizza?”

“That sounds amazing.” The tension and anxiety of the night was gone, leaving the room feeling clean in its wake. 

“Thanks Vola.”

“For what?”

“For being there tonight.”

“Eh. That’s what friends are for.” But the grey skin glowed warm with the compliment. “Well, while we’re waiting...I got a cool story for you.”

“Ohhhh, another one of your hunts?”

“Yep.” Vola dropped the spider gem and the beetle on the counter. “Ever heard of Mimics?”

  
  
“Whoaaa…..what the fuck? What is that?!” The Aasimar’s jaw dropped, leaning over the brooch in fascinated horror, poking it with her fork. “Gods, we’ve been dealing with me all evening. Tell me about your day! Tell me about Mimics!”

  
“Better buckle up, this one’s a weird one. So there was this drug dealer’s house down in the Hills…”

=====================================================================


End file.
